Far From The Tree
by Iron-Man420
Summary: Just a different take on the boys return to the roadhouse from hunting the clown in Everybody Loves A Clown.


This is my first Supernatural Fanfic. Just got into the show recently. I never really liked what they did with Jo. Originally intended as a Love interest for Dean I wish she would have become that. But the fans didn't like it, he needed to be the girl in every port kind of guy. But whatever. This is a slight Dean/Jo oneshot. Just a different way for the boys to come back to the Roadhouse after dispatching the Clown in Everybody Loves a Clown. Hope you like.

Far From The Tree

A long stretch of straight road in the correct part of Nebraska will lead you to a joyous little place called Harvelle's Roadhouse. Located away from any big cities, this bar represented a haven for hunters. Though not game hunters so much as supernatural hunters, hunters of demons, ghost, werewolves and vampires. The family running the place was all too familiar with what went "bump" proverbially in the night, and even in the day, the side of the world that few would even have nightmares about.

Ellen, wife of former hunter and now deceased Bill Harvelle, owns and operates the saloon along with her daughter, Jo, and a man named Ash. Bill left Ellen to raise their only daughter alone, and she had a hell of a time doing it. She had found out how he had died, at fault of that damn John Winchester. If he had only waited and stayed calm, maybe Bill would still be alive.

It surprised the hell out of her when his two boys showed up on her front step looking for information, and giving her some in return. That being the news of their father's death at the hands of the thing they needed information on. After the guns were lowered from the initial confrontation, and Dean got socked in the face, Ellen introduced the Winchesters to Ash. Ash was given all the information John had collected on his wife's murderer and said it would take 73 hours until he was done.

Instead of waiting around, Sam and Dean took a case from Ellen about a killer clown in a nearby Circus, and that was just over 3 days ago. Ellen expected them back any time soon. Glancing at the clock again, Ellen noted it was just after eleven. Still another three hours before they shut down for the night. The crowd was already relatively thin as it was, so not like it was hectic, with the exception of one group. Ellen was behind the bar serving all those preferring it to a table, Ash was in his room assumedly working on what the Winchesters had asked him to do. Jo, was doing the rounds on the floor, getting eye humped by eighty five percent or better of all those sitting at the tables throughout the night. It wasn't a big issue though, because most of them knew not to mess with a Harvelle due to the whole consequences being dire and all that good stuff. Most hunters here tonight knew Jo could look out for herself, and if she couldn't, Ellen had a 12 gauge persuader that would keep anyone from taking the last thing she had on this Earth.

It just so happened that there were a group of hunters here tonight, six to be exact, that were doing more than simply staring at Jo. Catcalls, passes, were just some of the antics, plus grab-assing that left the one who did it with a likely sprained wrist. It could have been worse, but Jo decided to be easy on the drunken hunter. On her way back to the bar to grab more beers for the other few hunters that were left for the night, Jo passed by the table again, and was stopped by one of the men when he grabbed her wrist, the same man whose wrist she had recently modified.

"Hey there sweetie, why don't you come back to my hotel with me tonight?" asked the drunken idiot. Even from arms length, Jo could still smell his alcohol riddled breath. The man, in his early thirties had short black hair, a crooked nose, sunken eyes as though he hadn't slept in months and a thin scar just below his right eye. Thin eyebrows and a bottlebrush mustache also adorned his face, giving an almost southern look, but his accent said otherwise. Jo looked hard into his face. She really didn't want to deal with this tonight. He hadn't even offered any pizza or beer for the party he wanted to have in her pants.

"Thanks, but I'll pass, don't want to wake up with herpes and morning sickness," Jo said coldly then tried to remove her wrist from his hand, but the man held tighter. "You would do well to let me go, unless you want this to get ugly," Jo spat sternly. The man simply looked at her and his face quickly became one of anger. Pulling hard on her wrist, the man rose to meet her and captured her in his grasp in an extremely quick motion, completely catching Jo of guard. His left arm, whose hand was still holding her right wrist wrapped over her collar bone, just below her neck, his right hand held an eight inch knife at her throat. Almost instantly Jo was mentally kicking herself for underestimating the man. Jo decided to chance a gut shot with her elbow, and was able to firmly plant it into the side of his lower torso. The man faltered ever so slightly, but just enough for Jo to be able to break free of his grasp. A split second before she could make her move, something hard hit her head, creating an extremely fuzzy reality.

Ellen, having taken notice at the situation immediately upon seeing the man grab Jo's wrist, had placed her right hand onto the pistol grip handle of the double barrel 12 gauge shotgun. The instant that the man made his move, Ellen brandished it aimed directly at the man's head. Bad thing was by the time the gun came to face her daughters assailant, it was too late. There was no way to get a shot off without hurting or killing Jo. Watching on, she saw Jo plant her elbow into the man was getting ready to fire a warning shot. Bad thing was, she had her focus aimed entirely at the man holding her daughter, and didn't catch the six foot three man next to Jo's attacker brandish a .45 revolver and hit her hard in the head. The man then smiled a toothy grin showing a missing bicuspid inside his thin lipped mouth. His dark eyes bored hard into Ellen making her uneasy, yet anger flared high and hot inside of her. This situation was bad and only getting worse.

The other men stood and removed handguns from their jackets aiming them at the few remaining patrons, daring them to make a move to help. Two black men, late twenties maybe, wielding .50 Desert Eagles pointed up at the two men at the bar. One of them wore a flat billed, and extremely ragged baseball cap assisting in hiding his features to some extent. Obvious to see was a slightly upturned nose above thin mustache and large lips. The other one slightly shorter than his approximately five ten companion, had a face of a man who had seen hard times. Perhaps he had served in the military. The two men up at the bar nodded to each other and turned around quickly both drawing small revolvers. But they weren't quick enough. Two gunshots rang through the old Roadhouse and two men now lay sprawled on the floor, one with a shoulder wound, the other a leg wound.

"Anyone else want to try something daring," the taller of the two canon wielding men spoke loudly.

"Don't even think about it grandpa," the largest of the group yelled as he cocked his gun and pointed it at an aged hunter who had made a move to pull out a weapon. Pushing probably 250 lbs and on a five foot five frame, it was odd to see him as a hunter. Tiny eyes close together gave him a creepy look. Add a scar across both lips, and a red bulbous nose one could assume one too many drunken bar fights.

The last of the men carried what looked like a fully automatic 9 mm pistol with a clip extension. He had long greasy hair held back by nothing causing it to flow freely in front of his chiseled face causing an almost serial killer look to exist. The large black trench coat didn't help the appearance. High cheek bones, thin lips, and a nose that looked as though it had been broken more times than he could count gave Ellen a vibe that couldn't even be classified as creepy.

"Look just let my daughter go, you leave, and we'll pretend like this never happened. Okay?" Ellen said, almost pleading to the man who had a knife at Jo's throat.

"I don't think so," the man holding Jo spat. "You see, your little girl here insulted me, and I think she needs to be taught a lesson. Don't you think boys?" Those around him chuckled maniacally. Ellen hid her fear as she continued to point the shotgun in the general direction of the six men. "So, I think that we will take our leave now," the man said as he began to half drag a semi-conscious Jo backwards toward the side door.

"Stop, or I'll shoot," Ellen hollered. Anger was burning hot behind her eyes. These men were trying to take her baby, and there wasn't a thing she could do right now. Could a mother feel anymore helpless?

The man simply laughed. "You won't, shoot me, you'd hit your precious little girl. Shoot any of them," the man said as he nodded to the gentlemen to his right, "I slit her throat and give this place a fresh paint job." Tears started to form in Ellen's eyes.

_God please help me,_ she prayed to herself. _Save my baby girl_. As though on cue, the door quietly began to slide open. The entourage of men were still working their way back to it all facing either Ellen or just off to the left, making it easy for the Roadhouse's recent arrival to slip in undetected. Hiding her surprise, Ellen knew she needed to buy a few seconds.

"Please, just let her go and take me," Ellen pleaded as she set the gun down on the bar.

Jo was only partly aware of what was going on after the blow to the head. She could decipher some of the dialog going on between her mother and the man who had the knife on her, but mostly it was muffled. After a moment she realized the man was starting to back up, and the other five of his friends were doing the same. The she heard her mom again, asking them to take her instead. Jo tried to speak, but that blow to the head really did something and all she got out was an indiscernible grunt. At her mother's request the man stopped backing up.

"You know what, in the words of your daughter, _I think I'll pass_," the man began laughing and evil low chuckle. Jo wished so much she had the strength to beat the piss out of him right now. Odds were not high that this was going to be a memorable night, so much as one that couldn't be forgotten. The Jo heard another voice speak that she was sure she had heard before, but couldn't quite put a face to it.

The man after declining Ellen's offer began to back up again, but only managed a few feet before the back of his head lightly bumped into with something about the size of a quarter.

"Let her go dickhead," spoke a voice unfamiliar to the knife toting drunk. His buddies turned to see a young man, late twenties short hair, strong face, and a .45 caliber pistol aimed at the back of their leaders head. All guns now rose to this attempting hero, taking away any chance of noticing the other 'hero' entering the front door.

"Back off Jack, this ain't your party," the man with the missing tooth shot back.

"Geez, I sure hope you got a dollar out of the Tooth Fairy for that one pal." A few of the man's friends laughed, which was returned with an evil glare. "I know I wasn't invited, but crashing parties is kind of my thing. Plus I just couldn't stand to think what you might do to this lovely young woman should I just let you leave with her," the man said in an extremely suave manner. "Now, let the girl go and walk the hell away and nobody gets hurt," the man didn't so much request as demand.

"Screw you buddy," two ton said as he cocked his gun.

"Well, it's not like I can't say I didn't try," the man said half laughing. "Why don't you try Sammy," the man called out. Before any of the five men knew what was going on, someone fired off two quick shotgun blasts, dropping all five men to the floor writing in pain.

"Now," Jo finally registered the voice of Dean Winchester as her savior. "That was just rock salt, but this," Dean cocked his Colt .45, "Is loaded with lead. So for the last time, let the girl go and you get to walk away without adding your brain matter to the decor." The man slowly let the knife fall from his right hand, blade first, causing it to impale the floor. The he let go of Jo's right arm and let his left drop. Jo still had her back to his chest, but was only barely able to stand. "Smart move," Dean said before slamming the butt of his pistol into the left side of the man's head dropping him to the floor to the right. Jo, losing her support fell into Dean. "I gotcha, I gotcha," Dean said as he put his left hand under her knees and his right under her back. He carried her over to the bar and placed her on it then returned to help Sam tie up the morons who decided to wreak havoc in the Roadhouse.

One hour later

The clock read twelve thirty, but to Jo, the last hour was kind of a blur. After she had been rescued by Sam and Dean, her mom called the police and EMS. When they got there, the cops rounded up the men and took statements from Sam and Dean as well as her mother and any other patrons. The two men with gunshot wounds were taken to the hospital and were told they would be out within a few days. Paramedics wanted to take Jo in as well, but she said she was fine. Not much you can do about a mild concussion. A glass of whisky in one hand and an ice pack in the other was good enough for her. Jo sat at the bar by herself still kicking herself for being so foolhardy. She was probably going to catch hell from her mother later. Right now she was talking to Sam, Dean was nowhere in sight. Maybe he was outside hitting on the hot paramedic. She kind of wished…Nah.

Ellen stood by the side door along with Sam both glancing out at the flashing lights off in the distance.

"I don't think I could thank you boys enough," Ellen spoke solemnly.

"It's nothing, I'm sure you would have done the same for us," Ellen cracked a small smile at Sam's words. "What?" Sam asked smiling a little himself.

"Nothing, it's just that...Maybe the apple does fall far from the tree," Ellen said almost pensively.

"What's that suppose to mean?" Sam asked uncertain of her last words.

"A story for another time," Ellen said smiling.

Jo watched as he mother and Sam continued to talk quietly to themselves. Her head was still throbbing, making alcohol probably not the best thing right now. She ran her left index finger along the top of the glass as he right elbow rested on the bar, her hand pressing the ice pack to her head. Exhaling slightly, she looked up and saw Dean stroll out of the head. He walked behind the bar and grabbed a beer before sitting opposite Jo.

"How's your head," Dean asked, and Jo could swear she heard concern in his voice.

"It's not bad, I'm sure I'll live," Jo said sounding sad.

"You sound disappointed, would you rather be unconscious in the E.R." Dean asked facetiously.

"No, I'm just pissed I let those losers get the drop on me. It was dumb, I shouldn't have underestimated them," Jo verbally assaulted herself.

"Look, don't get so down on yourself. It happens to the best of us. What, you don't think I never had to drag Sammy's ass out of hot water, or him mine. We all make mistakes. You just have to learn from them. That's what's important," Dean spoke calmly.

"I suppose your right," Jo said defeated.

"Damn right I'm right," Dean said smiling. Jo smiled a little to. "Ah there's a smile. Come on," Dean raised his bottle up into the air a little. "To mistakes," he said making a toast. Jo smiled again and rose her glass to his bottle making a small clinking noise.

"Thanks Dean, for saving my life. I don't know what would have happened if you and your brother hadn't shown up," Jo said close to tears.

"Hey Jo, don't dwell on what could have happened, you're safe, and for the most part unharmed. And who knows, I heard bumps are very attractive," Jo had enough pride left to stick her tongue out at Dean who was smiling at his own wit. "Come on, I'll walk you to your room," Dean said just after he downed the last of his beer and placed his hand out to Jo. Jo, finished the swallow that was left of her whiskey and took his left hand in her right after putting the ice pack down. Both walked toward the back of the bar, Jo now slightly tipsy on top of her head trauma was assisted by Dean all the way up the back stairs to her room. Jo walked in and started to close the door.

"Good night," Dean muttered smiling. Jo stopped closing the door and turned to face Dean, resting her head on the side of the door.

"Thanks again," Jo whispered with a crooked smile.

"I uh, don't suppose…nevermind," Dean faltered laughing slightly.

"What," Jo asked.

"Nothing, wrong place, wrong time," Dean said looking almost sad. Jo smiled fully and slipped out the door, stood on her tiptoes, and placed a small kiss on Dean's right cheek before returning to her room and fully shutting the door. Dean released a sideways smile and brought his right hand up to touch his cheek then turned and walked back downstairs passing Ellen on the way who gave him one last thank you. Dean made his way back to his brother, who was now talking with Ash.

"So you got it? This is amazing," Sam exclaimed.

"Yup, anything goes funky, this little baby will pick it up," Ash said proudly.

"Alright, you ready to head out," Dean asked his brother.

"Yeah, I suppose we should. Call us as soon as you get anything Ash," Sam requested.

"Will do partner," Ash saluted. The brothers turned and walked toward the door then out into the night.

"So, what was all that with Jo?" Sam asked. Not missing an opportunity to screw with his brother.

"What are you talking about?" Dean said brushing it off as he opened the door to the old van.

"I don't know, just seemed like you were getting kind of cozy there," Sam chided smiling wide.

"I was consoling a traumatized victim," Dean shouted defensively.

"Consoling huh, you know it's okay to admit you have feelings for her," Sam gave one last jab as they pulled out onto the highway.

"Shut up. Bitch."

"Jerk."


End file.
